


Mollified

by fabricdragon



Series: soft as silk, stronger than steel [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fear Play, Kink Negotiation, Masochism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rope Bondage, Sadism, Shibari, Threats, Verbal Humiliation, Wax Play, at first, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-25 19:11:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13841193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/pseuds/fabricdragon
Summary: After Jim from IT, after the pool... Jim  decides to visit Molly and find out just WHY she puts up with Sherlock- and possibly cause a bit of mayhem.  Instead...it's always the quiet ones, you know?While this could stand alone, and does... it is  also a bit of backstory for the series its in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mickie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickie/gifts).



Molly was cycling through furious, hurt, and guilty–she didn’t like any of them. but she couldn’t exactly stop. It went like this:

_How DARE Jim try to pick up my Sherlock right in front of me!_

_Why? Why did he ask me out and cozy up with me if he was gay? Why?_

_I was just using him to make Sherlock jealous–I never treated him like a real boyfriend._

Around and around. Oh, the exact thoughts varied, and the order–sometimes it was guilty, hurt, and furious, for instance–but it basically just kept cycling around, not getting anywhere.

She’d sobbed and screamed at a bewildered looking Jim and told him to “GET OUT!” and then collapsed crying over her desk, only to look up some long minutes later to find him still standing there.

“What…?” Molly had hoped he was going to tell her it was a mistake, that she was wrong… that he loved her…

“You… um… you’re crying on my ID badge…”

She looked down and yes, she was in fact crying on his ID badge. She handed it to him, sniffling, and he’d just sighed…

“You get this a lot?”

“Yeah…” She sniffled.

“Maybe going on at your current would-be boyfriend about your unrequited crush on Sherlock isn’t the best way to pick up a new guy, Molly–just a thought,” he said, and then he’d left.

…

She was home, alone–again–with a container of chocolate ice cream that tasted like cardboard. She put it away in the freezer and tried to watch Glee, but they were so HAPPY and she was so miserable… and…

She had turned it off and was heading back to the kitchen–probably just to stare mournfully into the fridge and come back to the television again–when the doorbell rang. She startled and stared… _Who?_

“Hello?” She opened the door and looked out.

“Did you HONESTLY just open the door without even looking?” a voice asked incredulously, and then the speaker swung into view from beside the door.

_Jim._

~

Jim had had some fun with the boys at the pool–alright, it got a bit messier than he liked, but hey, it worked out. Irene had called and offered some very interesting tidbits of information, but of course she was an untrustworthy bitch… good at it, mind you, but not usually worth the time.

Sebastian was off handling a few things–tidying up after the pool and the plans…

And his mind kept going back to the real enigma in this case: Molly.

 _She was smart–for most folks, not a Holmes or anything, but smart–but she let Sherlock treat her like dirt._ God knows that he’d gotten an earful from her as Jim from IT…

It was enough to actually make him dislike Sherlock a bit– _she asked him out and he told her to fetch coffee!_ –but then Molly just took it. _If you LET people treat you like a doormat, well, they will… and she let Sherlock get away with it and still gave him anything he asked for._

_It was a puzzle._

It had been obvious she was just using Jim to make him jealous; Jim didn’t mind–it was just a role and she told him more about Sherlock than he could get in a year from anyone else–but she’d seemed genuinely hurt that he was gay.

_Hmm…_

_Sherlock wasn’t interested in her; gay boy Jim from IT wasn’t interested in her–maybe she had a thing for unavailable men?_ Jim idly wondered if she was asexual– _but no. If she wanted just the romantic attraction then Jim might have worked, but Sherlock? Never._

_A puzzle._

Jim liked puzzles, and hated them. He always wanted to take them into pieces and see how they worked…

He pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and slipped on his hoodie. _If they were looking for anyone, it wasn’t this. The Virgin and the Iceman would have her apartment under complete surveillance, of course._ Jim smiled…

What would they do when he got to her right under their noses?

He looped the CCTV cameras when he got close enough, and slowed as he got closer. _They must have gotten better–much better… Usually I could spot the outer perimeter, but…_

Jim frowned and sent the signal to his little hireling–a nice stash of drugs, in exchange for tagging a rival’s house, supposedly. He waited for the alarms, for the cops and the men in dark suits to hustle the fellow with the suspicious backpack and the spray can off…

_Nothing?_

_No… response… at all?_

Jim wandered up to Molly’s door, marveling… and rang the doorbell with his gloved hand–sliding to one side by reflex. _No one…_

He heard fumbling with the door and Molly opened it: puffy-faced and unhappy in her silly pajamas and a robe, a smear of chocolate on the corner of her lip and on her pajama top: _Ice cream._

“Hello?” she called out, not at all alarmed, just bewildered.

Jim stepped into full view. “Did you HONESTLY just open the door without even looking?” he asked her incredulously, and watched her eyes.

“Jim? What are… what are you…?” She fidgeted and looked down. “I’m not dressed for company.”

 _No fear, no worry…?_ It hit Jim then as though someone had stabbed him: _She didn’t know. Those BASTARDS hadn’t even given enough of a damn to warn her!_

Jim’s voice softened with something that could have been pity. “It’s okay, Molly. Can I come in?”

“…I guess?” She sniffled a bit and stepped back to let him in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions and threats... or promises

She let him in and Jim looked around. _Molly’s place looked like Molly: good bones, but cluttered with trinkets and stuff._ He pushed the hoodie back and turned to look at her fidgeting next to the door.

“What… what do you want, Jim? I heard you quit.”

“I did.”

“Because… because of me?”

Jim chuckled, “No, because of Sherlock.”

 _Oh, of course… Why would it be over me_? “So… what do you want?”

“Molly? Come over and sit down?” he said, patting at the sofa. She did, dragging her heels a bit; she felt childish, but she couldn’t help it.

Jim smiled at her and reached a hand out, touching her cheek. “You really are a complete doormat, aren’t you?” he said sweetly.

“What?”

“You let Sherlock walk alllll over you, and then go fetch him a coffee for the privilege.”

“He… he’s doing important work,” she protested.

“And you aren’t?”

His hand on her cheek felt comfortable. She shook her head and his hand slipped down to her neck.

“Molly…” He leaned forward, looking sincerely into her eyes. “They didn’t even care enough to tell you that you were in danger.”

“That’s… that’s ridiculous!” She felt a bit worried, and Jim was leaning into her while she leaned back: he wasn’t a big man, but she suddenly felt very small. “If I was in danger they would tell me!”

“But you are in danger, Mols… And not only didn’t Sherlock tell you–even John Watson didn’t tell you!” He paused and his eyes left hers for a moment–she almost collapsed–then he looked back. “In fairness, John probably assumed Sherlock would tell you, or the police would…”

“The police? What would the police tell me? I don’t understand?”

Jim moved forward, pinning her easily–she was sitting curled with one leg under her, hardly a defensive position–and he grabbed her wrists with one hand, leaving his other around her throat. “I’m the one who was sending them messages, Molly,” he spoke quietly, letting the friendly persona bleed away. “I’m the one with the bombs. They knew–I spoke to them–and they didn’t. Even. Bother. To. Tell. You.”

Molly watched, mesmerized as his eyes went from friendly to lethal. She couldn’t move, could scarcely think. _He was… but he couldn’t be_? “They would have told me…” she whispered.

“They didn’t.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers. He’d kissed her before as Jim, friendly IT boy, but this… He smiled against her lips and thought about all the things he could do before they found her. “They left you to me…”

Molly felt dizzy; she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t… _Jim wasn’t_ … “I’ll scream?”

“No, you won’t.” He moved his lips to her neck, feeling her pulse pounding. He was lying on her, and moved his one hand from her throat to her wrists. “I’d take out your throat before you finished inhaling, Molly darling. You can’t do… anything…” he said quietly, and she lay back and bared her throat, breathy, gasping moans barely passing her lips.

Her hips were canting up to him, though– _interesting_ –and she was flushing…

Molly felt as though she was at once turning to lead and on fire. She started seeing spots and an odd tingling started racing through her; she was gasping for air… “Sherlock… he would tell me, he… he …”

“Cares? I doubt it–you’re just a convenient tool for him: fetch coffee, get me body parts, let me risk your career to use your lab… You. Are. Nothing.”

Molly moaned, tears starting in her eyes and a strange warm feeling… she was too hot. And Jim was so very heavy…

Jim shifted himself to sit astride her, pressing her wrists down into the sofa. He leaned down again and kissed her–gently at first, then roughly. Molly pressed back into the kiss and moaned, her hands fluttering uselessly.

“They didn’t care, Molly. They left you unprotected, and alone, and I. Can. Do. Anything that I want to…” He gently nipped at her earlobe and then started licking his way down her neck. “I thought about leaving you dead for them to find, you know…”

“Oh, God… Please don’t… You…” She was crying. “You liked me…” Her body was demanding more, and she was sobbing, and it felt like heaven and hell.

“No, no, I didn’t. I was just using you to get to Sherlock…” He bit at her clavicle and she rocked up into him. He smiled and rolled his–surprising to him–erection against her hip. “You were convenient, Molly; but I suppose I pity you.” He moved back up abruptly and caught her mouth and her tongue, forcing himself into her mouth, cutting off her air.

She struggled then, but her hips were moving up into his, and he let her breathe. She gasped for air and he drove his hip into her crotch and rocked against her.

She cried out, her head going back and her mouth pulling open, tears running down her face, and a flush spreading across her neck and chest.

She felt like there was a wave of fire for a moment, and she wanted... she wanted more, and she wanted… something… and she just wanted someone to care, to pay attention.

“You…” Jim smiled and almost laughed. “You get off on it, don’t you? No wonder you let him treat you like that…”

She was sobbing again, “He… he would tell me! He… he must not have thought I mattered enough, no one would hurt me…”

Jim did laugh then. “Oh, it’s worse than that: you saw me, Molly, you spent TIME with me; for all they know, you might know where I was staying, or have seen an important clue… Even if they didn’t give a damn about your safety for any other reason, you’re a valuable witness.”

He got off of her, and pulled her up from the sofa. “I’m going to give you a choice, Molly…” He folded her against him, holding her wrists behind her: she barely struggled, didn’t bite, didn’t kick…

“What…?” She felt like she could barely breathe, and it came out as a squeak.

“We’re going to go into your bedroom–I bet it’s all cute in pink and white, isn’t it–and you make your choice: I leave you there, stripped and tied out, and we see how long it takes them to even notice you’re missing…” Jim started making plans to call in a wellness check on her. _Those idiots probably wouldn’t notice her missing._

“Or… or what?”

“You let me–no, you BEG me–to do whatever I want to you… and I will…” Jim nosed her hair aside and licked her neck, and then sucked a bruise into it.

Her knees went out from under her and she felt like the room tilted. She was afraid. _They would… they would notice–wouldn’t they?_

They hadn’t even told her, they hadn’t cared…

Jim continued as he moved her back to the bedroom, “But you get to walk out of here in the morning–assuming you can still walk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> consent and kink negotiation... sort of... kind of...it's always the quiet ones, always

Jim moved her easily to her bedroom, scooping up his backpack as he did. She struggled ineffectually–very ineffectually. Her bedroom was, in fact, mostly white and pink–the kind of bedroom a serious adult would have if they had just TONS of unresolved issues from their childhood, and weren’t quite certain they were grown up.

Jim pushed her to her knees by the bed and yanked off the duvet…

“Hello Kitty sheets? Seriously?”

“I… I collect…”

Jim shook his head and got into his backpack. _If I’d known, I would have brought more rope, but this would have to do. Did I even bring condoms? Damn… gloves, sure…_ He idly noticed that, even though he was rooting around in his backpack and only had a hand on her wrists, she hadn’t moved.

He tossed the rope in front of her nose on the bed. “Choose, or I choose for you.”

She just shook her head and bit her lip. _How could I… I don’t…_ She squeaked as she realized that she honestly thought either option sounded… _sort of okay._

Jim looped the rope around her neck, actually letting go of her wrists, and it took her a while to move. “Your hands are in the wrong place.” He put a disappointed edge in his voice and she cringed.

“Where are they… I don’t…”

He guided her hands behind her back, bent at the elbows and one wrist over the other. “Like that. That’s a basic position: if I tell you ‘hands behind your back’ and nothing else, you do that.”

He let go of her wrists and she stayed. _How the hell did I MISS this?_ Jim wondered, and then answered himself, _Playing a role, and she wouldn’t react like that to sweet gay boy Jim._ He started building the harness and arm tie–just a basic one, quick to release but secure rigging.

“What… what are you doing?” She tried to sound firm–her women’s self-defense class had emphasized firm–but between the terror, the ropes at her throat, and the fact that a part of her simply couldn’t believe JIM would hurt her… she just whispered.

“Tying you up so you won’t be able to move,” Jim said calmly, as though he was explaining why her email was being slow. “Besides, I like rigging.”

“Rigging what?”

“Ropes–I like ropes.” He rolled his eyes. “If I keep you, you’re getting an assigned reading list.”

“I… I’m sorry, I’m stupid–”

Jim yanked down her pajama pants and swatted her ass. “Bad girl!”

Molly squeaked and cowered faintly, and felt something uncomfortably wet. “I’m sorry? I’m… What did I do?”

“You are not stupid. If you were stupid I wouldn’t have been able to stand even playing with you at work, and I certainly wouldn’t have bothered coming here personally–I would have had your building burn down or had you die in a mugging or something.”

She tried to struggle for real at that– _and why hadn’t I before?_ “You… you… don’t!” She inhaled to scream and Jim tugged sharply on the ropes.

“No. No screaming,” he said firmly.

Molly shut up and started to cry again. _Why? Why couldn’t I be brave and…_

“The worst thing that will happen to you, Molly, is that you’ll annoy me enough that I’ll leave.”

Molly bit her lip. _Somehow that sounded awful, but… shouldn’t it sound… good?_

He hauled her up on the bed and piled her pillows up in the middle. She was trying to figure out what that was about when he bent her over them with her ass in the air.

“Stay,” Jim snapped at her and he took the lead lines from her neck and ran them down to her ankles. It was a half-assed job of rigging, but he hadn’t brought the right rope for anything else–Jim resolved to pack better from now on. Molly was ass-up on the bed, sniffling. _She had a cute ass, actually._

Jim walked around and pulled her head up slightly by her hair–and, yes, she moaned–“Do I just leave you here like this? Or do you want to be my toy for the night?”

“…You’re gay…” She still felt hurt about him handing Sherlock his number.

“I’m bisexual, if anything; although I prefer men,” Jim said thoughtfully–honestly, he wasn’t usually interested at all–“and you would spread your legs for Sherlock in a heartbeat, so don’t get all superior on me.” He crouched down and stared at her. “Pick. Right now. I leave you like this, or…” Jim considered just how much she seemed to get off on things earlier. “…or I use you like the slut you want to be.”

She put her face into the bed, flushing–and pulling on her hair like that had to hurt. “I CAN’T!” she wailed.

Jim grinned. “Can’t make yourself say it? Can’t admit you want me to use you, treat you like a slave?” He leaned in close to her ear and licked it. “I’ll make you squirm and beg, and then kick you out of bed and send you to make me coffee…”

She found herself trying to rub against the pillows and moaned–again. “I… I don’t want to…” _I don’t… I don’t want… do I? Oh, God, I’m horrible!_

“Do you even know what a safeword is?” Jim laughed, watching her trying to get off against the pillows. He pulled on a glove–her consent was a given, but he was having too much fun making her confess–and ran his fingers across her pussy: she was soaked.

He took his other hand and smacked her ass again, and then rubbed over it. “Do. You. Know. What. A. Safeword. Is?”

“No…”

“It’s a word you say when you actually, really, want me to stop. Because you are a lying little slut and you keep saying ‘stop’ and ‘no’, but you keep trying to fuck yourself on the pillows–or my fingers.” _Because she really was. She was opening herself up wider and arching her back and her body was begging, even if she wasn’t–yet._

“I don’t…” she finally managed to squeak out, “I don’t know what to do!” His fingers– _gloves, medical glove:_ she identified the faint rubbery feel–were gently teasing at her and she wanted him to… _Oh, God, I do… I want him to…_ “Please… do… something?” she managed to squeak out past what felt like a choke hold on her throat.

Jim lost it then, laughing and falling over her back; eventually, he pulled himself together. “Oh, you are too much fun, Molly. It’s always the quiet girls, isn’t it? I’m going to make you forget your own NAME… But for right now? All you need to know is the safeword–the one thing you can say that will make me stop, maybe, if I feel like it.”

“What?” she gulped.

“I’ll pick something better later, but for right now? How about that annoying detective: Sherlock.”

“Sh-Sherlock?”

“You say ‘Sherlock’ and I assume you need to stop. Say ‘Sherlock Holmes’ and I will stop, and I won’t touch you again that night. Clear?”

She nodded.

Jim smirked, and drove two fingers into her, hard–she was wet and open and it was easy but she started to scream and he pushed her head down into the bed until she stopped struggling. He pulled her up by her hair, fingers still buried in her–she was clenching down on his fingers–“That’s, ‘Yes, Jim’… or ‘Yes, Sir’, if you prefer.”

“Y-Yes, Jim.”

“Good girl,” he purred down at her and twisted his fingers inside of her. She threw her head back and bit her lip. “I’m going to have to get you a gag…”

_Oh God, Oh God…_

“I’m going to love ruining you, Molly… I’ll gag you, and tie you up so you can’t move, and then…” he reached under her and rolled her nipple between his fingers, “I’ll find out just how much you want to be put down… Maybe I’ll leash you at my feet and make you suck me off?”

Molly came at that, spasming around his fingers and soaking the pillow under her. She was flushing in red splotches and helpless and she loved every minute of it–loved it enough to make him curious about whether it would actually be worth fucking her… _Ah, well, another time._ His pants were getting uncomfortably tight, and he considered…

He had no idea of her status– obviously he knew his– and sadly, he hadn’t brought a condom. _I am NEVER showing up at a murder so unprepared!_

He pulled his fingers out of her–mostly–and she whimpered and tried to clench down on him. He pinched her and she shrieked.

“You exist to make me happy–you haven’t even earned what you’ve gotten, yet.”

“No, Jim, I’m… I’m sorry…”

He peeled his glove off and dropped it in the trash. “I’m going to see what you have to play with, Molly–probably nothing: you weren’t prepared for anything, were you?”

“No, no, I didn’t, I never…”

“Never dreamed someone would show up and give you what you need? What you want?”

She bit her lip and cried, but she nodded.

“You don’t even keep condoms in the house, do you?”

“No, no Jim, I don’t. You can… you don’t have to use one…”

He slapped her hard on the ass for that one and pulled her upright until her ankles came off the bed from the tension on the ropes. “You NEVER risk your safety or mine, bitch. EVER!”

She was struggling and flailing. _He was angry? He was really angry._ “Sorry! I’m sorry!”

He dropped her back over the pillows. “Stay put and think better of it: you don’t have any idea what my status is, and I doubt you take very good care of yourself. I’m not going to fuck you without protection: you’ll be lucky if I fuck you at all.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m not worth it–I’m sorry!” Molly sobbed as Jim walked out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wax and fear play

Jim just shook his head as he headed for the kitchen. _Silly girl had no sense of self-preservation at all, and no self-esteem, and… God only knows what guys had talked her into before. She was going to need a full rack of tests before I could even play with knives… she’ll probably love knives…_

He rummaged around in her kitchen– _only one apple?–_ and finally found the candles and candle stick–he grabbed several and the lighter.

He sent a quick text to Sebastian: Will be out all night–I’m at Molly’s–he sent the address.

As he was on his way back to the bedroom he got a reply: Boss? Uh… do you have to? She seemed harmless.

She is harmless. Nothing permanent, I’ll fill you in later. he replied. He put the phone away and came back in, once again admiring the huddle of Molly on the bed: pajama top pulled askew; rope tied over pillows; naked, pink ass in the air…

He pulled a chair up and took out his knife. She stared at him with wide, terrified eyes as he started peeling paper-thin slices off the apple. He held a bit out to her on the knife tip. “Open wide.”

She did, almost going cross-eyed trying to watch the knife. He let the apple fall off onto her tongue without touching her with the blade. “Nu-uh… If you want me to play with knives, you’re getting tested first: blood borne illness is nothing to play with, Molly…” He lowered his voice and leaned back, peeling a long spiral off the apple while she watched. “And you are such a careless girl: how do I know where you’ve been?”

“I… I don’t have anything...”

“You just suggested that a murderous villain fuck you without a condom, Molly.” He rolled his eyes. “Forgive me if I don’t trust your judgement.” He started laying out candles, sizing them up carefully.

“What-what are you doing?!” she squeaked at him. Images of the house burning down with her tied to the bed flickered through her mind.

“Playing…” he smirked. “I like to play with fire… and helpless little girls.” He flicked the lighter thoughtfully and she twitched. He took a section of her hair and slid it in between his fingers, and then held just the ends to the lighter. They caught and smoldered, and the smell of burning hair filled his nose–and hers.

She started to cry again. He pinched out the hair and moved behind her. He flicked the lighter and lit a candle, holding it between her legs, just close enough that she could feel the heat a little. She started whimpering and begging.

“Please Jim, don’t? I… I won’t tell anyone… I didn’t…”

“Oh, you won’t tell anyone Molly… because, if you did, you’d have to tell Sherlock exactly how much you begged for it… how you offered to let me fuck you and I wouldn’t…”

She cringed. He let a drop of wax fall onto his hand and nodded. _Cool enough, at that height: it would sting, but not burn, really._ He set it aside as he pulled on a new pair of gloves.

“Luckily, you had an assortment of candles, Molly–I think this one has beeswax in it…” He picked up the candle and dripped the hot wax over her back away from the ropes. She gasped and tried to move away from the sudden sting.

“Hold still, Molly–you wouldn’t want hot wax someplace… sensitive… would you?”

She shook her head vehemently and her hair whipped back and forth. _Hmm, that wouldn’t do_. He set the candle down on the bedside table and looked… _Ah, there._ He picked up the hairband and braided her hair quickly.

Molly could feel hot wax all over her back. _Would it scar? How badly was I burned?_ She didn’t know and she could scarcely think, and then… then Jim took her hair and started to braid it. He did it quickly and easily as though he did it every day, and when he was done he twisted her hairband around it and tucked the end of her hair under one of the ropes.

“Now that that’s out of the way…” He ran a hand over her shoulder blades, forced back by her arms tied behind her back, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The way he kept pinching her fingers and her toes hurt–she had eventually realized he was checking her circulation–but she could scarcely pick her head up and she couldn’t see what he was doing…

Hot drops fell and spattered along her shoulder blades.

“Wings, I think…” Jim hummed and stroked over her bottom. His fingers roamed down and tangled in her hair and he tugged– _it didn’t hurt, but it didn’t not hurt_ –and the tingle it left behind made her want so much more.

“Please… please…”

“Oh, aren’t you just so desperate…” he laughed. “Well, you’ll have to be better prepared for my visits next time, won’t you? Oh, and Molly?” He dripped a line of wax down to her ass, and at the top of her crack– _it hurt_ –and the tingling feeling got worse and she whimpered and tried to push back into his fingers. “I like to know where my toys have been, you know… Once you get tested, you’ll tell me if you misbehave… assuming, of course, that you want me to come back…”

“Yes, yes please! Please don’t leave… I’m sorry, I’ll be better!”

“Hmmm.” Jim took the thicker candle out from under his leg where he’d been warming it and moved the dripping candle down, letting hot wax just barely hit her pubic hair. She twitched and jerked.

“You know, I think I will fuck you…. but the candle seems about right…” He moved the lit candle down and dripped hot wax on her thighs until she screamed into the bed. _Her thighs would be red and sore under the wax, but not too bad…_ He took the thicker candle and slowly pushed it in, keeping a grip on the wick…

 _Oh God, he’d put the candle in me?_ It was lit and hot wax and fire and she cringed into the bed and trembled. “Don’t burn me there, Jim, please, I’ve…”

“You won’t be hurt if you do what I say, Molly dear…” He pulled the candle out and carefully spilled some of the wax from the lit candle onto her leg. He pushed the unlit candle back in, and whispered, “Of course, I’m sure it would make an interesting investigation… victim found dead, a candle melted down in her… “

She was hanging between terror and ecstasy and she was going to die and she’d never felt this good–or this bad–and Molly was just about to scream “Sherlock!”–just about certain he wouldn’t stop, terrified that she was going to be burned there, more; her thighs were already burned–and… _He put the lit candle down on the bedside in a stand…? But he was fucking me with it…_

 _There had been… many candles… there were fewer… another one? Was it lit? Was it not?_ While she was trying to think, the motion sped up and his fingers found her clit and…

Jim smiled as she realized, and started working in and out with the candle in her–he used his fingers as well, and she screamed and bucked and begged…

Jim thought about doing it for real, and about _a molded candle with a flare to keep it settled in her ass, perhaps, so the fire wouldn’t be too close, but I could film… Molly in black ropes against her pale skin, with wax dripping over her…_ and he groaned. _My pants will be a right mess at this rate._

“I wonder if you can be taught to give a proper blowjob?” He was tugging and twisting at her in between sliding the candle in and out.

“Please let me?” She wasn’t certain if she was begging to come or begging to do it.

“No. You’re going to have to prove yourself for that, Molly. Look at you: lying tied on your own bed, with a candle for a dildo… begging to suck me off…” He pulled her braid out from under the rope and tugged her head back with it–just a little–and listened to her breathy little gasps. He fucked her over the edge with the candle and pulled it free, leaving her open and gasping and bucking her hips against the pillows.

“You should get a piercing, I think…” He ran his finger over her, toying with her. “There? Or perhaps…” he pinched her clitoris, “there? It would hurt to get it done, but then after you’d know… you’d feel it, and you’d know it was my mark on you…”

She whimpered and shivered, “Yes, Jim.” She could picture it, rubbing on her panties…

He grinned down at her. “Well, I’ve marked you up enough: I suppose I have to keep you… Clean yourself up and go to the clinic tomorrow–I’ll text you the address…”

He smirked and pulled the ropes, loosening the ties enough that she could wriggle free.

“…and bring me a coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since this 4 chapter arc could stand alone, or be "how they met" in a NUMBER of stories, i am closing the arc here.  
> i will be writing seqels, but they will be more evidently part of the world of "Designs on the web" and "london Bridge"


End file.
